


It's Just Not On

by dorothydonne



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, I can't believe I went there, It's basically just a glorified Fleshlight, M/M, Masturbation, Omega Verse, Rough Sex, Then it's just sexytimes, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Until it's resolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 21:05:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorothydonne/pseuds/dorothydonne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“If I came up with a safe solution to our predicament, would you be agreeable to going to bed with me?”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>John and Sherlock are attracted to each other, but it’s just not natural. Two alphas? You may as well be trying to breed llamas with chickens.</p><p>But Sherlock Holmes is determined, and things that most would consider impossible happen to be his specialty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Would You?

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't know what the Omegaverse is, Google it before proceeding.
> 
> If you do know what the Omegaverse is, welcome. Hopefully this is a bit of a change-up from the usual "oops, I'm in heat" fics. Enjoy. And then leave a review so I can love you.

“If I came up with a safe solution to our predicament, would you be agreeable to going to bed with me?”

Sherlock watched as John sighed and closed his laptop. All of his tells were there--yes, he would be agreeable to a sexual relationship if it were possible for it to stay on the safe side of the violent line. He’d go into intimacies that were aggressive, but not if there was a chance that they would injure each other. Sherlock could tell from the way his eyes lingered on his throat when he raised them. But there was also the tension in his shoulders, holding himself back from what he wanted.

What _they_ wanted.

“I’m certain I could find a way,” Sherlock said.

“It’s just not on, Sherlock,” John said. He wasn’t denying the attraction, merely commenting on the fact that their relationship as it was had already crossed a line, and perhaps crossing the next wouldn’t be quite wise.

Similarly, there was something under those words that encouraged the detective to drop the subject, but when a Holmes got an idea, a Holmes followed through, even if it meant coming out of a cloud of smoke with only nine toes.

He hadn’t needed his little right toe, anyway. What a tedious thing it had been.

“Just answer the question, John. If it were possible, would you?”

John licked his lips before pressing them into a thin line.

Hesitant agreement.

That was all Sherlock required. 

He sank back into his thoughts.

***

Alpha-Alpha relationships were probably the most uncommon and looked-down-upon homosexual pairings. There tended to be less of a fuss about Omega-Omega pairs or Beta-Beta couples, but Alpha-Alpha always had some controversy or another stirring in the news. They called it _taboo_.

Sherlock knew and had known for a while that John had Alpha-Alpha tendencies--he’d seen the man flirt with Lestrade, whether John admitted to it or not. From what Sherlock could tell, he himself was the only one the doctor had considered entering into a relationship with, sexual or otherwise, and even then, it was a constant struggle for the man who was hesitant to admit to his bisexuality.

The one time they’d allowed themselves to indulge in the wants of the flesh, John had pinned Sherlock against the wall by the door to 221B in a post-case adrenaline rush. This had in turn flared up the alpha instincts in the detective and he’d shoved John against the opposite wall, nearly overturning a table in his efforts to pin his flatmate by the arms. They’d bitten and sucked at each other’s lips and tongues, carnal and passionate, until it threatened to get violent.

They’d come to their senses before any clothes were removed (though Sherlock’s shirt had suffered some tears and popped buttons), but the damage had been done. Each alpha’s scent was one that the other now knew almost intimately, and that short taste would never really be enough.

That had been nearly three weeks ago and Sherlock’s mind was still buzzing from the desire it had lit inside of him. Where once the two men had been comfortable around each other, now the sexual tension had driven an almost physical wedge between them. Sherlock knew when John fantasized about him (most mornings in the shower, sometimes in the evening after he’d gone to bed), but he didn’t know if those fantasies matched his own. His inability to read John’s fantasies on his features was driving Sherlock semi-mad with want.

He brought his own lewd thoughts to the front of his mind now, splayed out and naked as he was on top of the covers. His skin nearly itched from the need for heat and unfamiliar skin. It was a symptom he knew came over omegas when their cycle was upon them, but he’d never experienced anything similar to it until after that evening in the hall.

Sherlock had fished one of John’s jumpers out of the laundry before retiring for the night. There was nothing wrong about it--he knew John had done the same with a pair of the younger man’s pants. Their pining for each other was almost adolescent. Two grown men, living under the same roof, sharing meals and tea and fleeting touches who had resorted to fitful wanks. If either of them had been bonded prior, it likely wouldn’t have been as difficult. But given that each of them were piping hot and raging with a lifetime of alpha hormones, it was troubling.

It was the only time in his life Sherlock could recall wishing he’d previously taken a lover. And then he’d realize his thoughts, correcting himself with the reminder that when it did happen, he and John would only have belonged to each other. Yes, John had had romantic relationships and was quite far from pure, but he’d never made a true bond with anyone the way he would eventually with Sherlock. And he would--Sherlock was certain he’d find a way.

He held that thought, knowing how right it was, how fitting, and clutched the stripy jumper in near-trembling fingers.

The jumper smelled of John, though not quite as strongly as a pair of his pants would have. Those had been suspiciously absent from the set when Sherlock had gone in for his heist.

He held the jumper in one hand, letting the wool scritch against his skin as he dragged the neckline of it up to his face. His cock was thickening as the smell brought back the sense memory of suckling at John’s throat, teeth begging to bite harshly enough to trigger a bond. But no--that would have brought on a violence in the both of them that could have been more danger than pleasure.

Sherlock began to breathe heavier as the fantasy played on in his mind. Pressing John up against the wall and assuming the part of the alpha inside, teeth digging into the sensitive flesh of his neck, now biting the jumper in his place. It was easy to bring the other alpha’s panting whimpers into his ear; to imagine hot breath trickling against his own neck. The short taste of that man’s skin now lingered on his tongue once more, getting stronger as he dove deeper into the headspace of the fantasy.

His brain was swimming in the imagined pheromones, conjuring a body pressed warmly against his own, ready to enter a days-long coupling, a lifelong partnership.

Oh, how wonderful it would be to feel John’s leaking alpha cock pressed up against his own. They would have pushed and pulled each other, fighting for dominance, each one wanting to claim the other on his own territory, to strip clothes away on his own bed. Sherlock wanted it to happen in his space--he knew that others had been claimed in John’s bed, in the very bedclothes that John now laid in, and he couldn’t imagine their lovemaking taking place in tainted sheets.

It would be so much easier if they were alpha and omega, the perfect bonding pair. No battles, no winner--just the give and take of flesh.

Sherlock’s mind let him imagine that he had won, that he’d pushed a willing John Watson into his bed and pinned him down, arms above his head as their bodies finally came together as naked as the day they were born. The mechanics of this would be different in the light of reality, but this was his--he could hold the smaller man down the same way he felt wrestled down by his need.

Fueling the fantasy, Sherlock set the jumper down on his pillow and rolled onto his stomach, resting on one elbow as he balled up the jumper so he could nuzzle his face into the fabric. It was easy to close his eyes and recall the softness of John’s neck, the ease with which he nipped teasingly at the flesh. 

He moaned quietly and his hips rutted against the bedclothes, seeking the body of the man upstairs who was likely in a similar state. His cock was leaking now, knot throbbing at the base. Every inch of his body was ready to claim the other alpha, as impossible as the desire was.

Sherlock snaked a hand down to wrap around his shaft, giving a few tight pulls to his burning flesh. He breathed deep the scent of the other alpha and thrust his hips into the circle of his fist, knowing the dream of his claim was futile. But that didn’t quell the fire in his belly that spread through him, tingling through his groin down to his toes and back up again. The friction of the head of his cock against the bedclothes was a rough touch where he sought the innermost moistness of a partner, but his orgasm was chasing his fantasy, all the same.

He bit down on the balled-up jumper as he came, panting through teeth and wool to taste John’s unique scent as he gripped the base of his cock to please the engorged knot. Moments passed, but he didn’t release his hold, instead choosing to let his breathing regulate, only gasping with the occasional surge of pleasure from his knotted fist. 

When he finally began to come down from his fantasy almost a quarter hour later, he heard a stifled shout from the room above him.

Sherlock Holmes would come up with a solution. That ceiling couldn’t separate him from his desired partner forever.

***

His research had turned up nothing but suggestions that would likely do nothing to quell John’s fears. Alpha-Alpha forums suggested the use of hormone suppressants to keep their natural urges at bay, or special soaps and scented body washes to dull the alpha scent. But they were never guarantees. Once the smell of sex was in the air, it was often an issue of both partners feeling the urge to penetrate, which was hard to control in a pair of alphas and often ended rather painfully for one or the other.

John wasn’t willing to take that risk. He’d told Sherlock rather explicitly of everything that could go wrong.

On the fifty-third page of a forum thread for Alpha-Omega couples, Sherlock found something that had potential. A female omega with a male alpha didn’t want to be bred and had bad reactions to birth control solutions. Multiple people were recommending a product called an O-Masturbator, which sounded positively childish, but the reviews made him want to research it a bit further. Apparently the omega could slot it between her thighs and the alpha could penetrate it in her place. It was a slightly off angle, but it would simulate the feeling of a true coupling. That was, in essence, what he was hoping to find.

Sherlock looked across the room. John was seated in his chair reading a medical text, though he looked as though he was falling asleep slowly. When he felt the consulting detective’s gaze on him, John’s eyes flicked up to him and held his gaze for a short moment, contemplative, before turning back down to the book in front of him.

The O-Masturbator’s page advertised that it was “for the alpha who wants to experience heat sol-O” which would have made Sherlock annoyed enough to close the page if the product itself didn’t seem rather promising.

It looked rather like an incredibly thick torch with a flesh-toned silicone anus on one end. As ridiculous as it looked, he imagined that if he could find one large enough to fit two erect alpha cocks into, it could be just the solution he was looking for. The very idea of sliding his cock along John’s and into a tight, wet passage was almost enough to flare up his desire once more.

As they were designed, there didn’t appear to be any room for a second cock to fit inside, but at least now he had something to move forward with.

***

It took six weeks to get his custom O-Masturbator in the post, but when he did, he didn’t want to waste a moment.

_I require your assistance for an experiment. Come home at once. - SH_

John was out doing the shopping, or something equally menial. Honestly, if his scent wasn’t so keenly alpha, Sherlock was certain everyone would suspect the man was an omega due to his love of domestic tasks. 

_I’m at the shop. I’ll be home soon enough. Don’t set fire to anything._

He relocated to his bedroom and removed the sex toy from the box, only glancing at the instructions before crumbling them and shoving them back into the empty box. The company had been intrigued by his request and had asked him to let them know how the experiment went. He expected they would likely want to profit from his design.

 

One of the key factors in the experiment was the O-brand lubricant that had shipped with the device. It was a synthetic, water-based lubricant with a distinct omega scent. While Sherlock had never been lured by omega pheromones, he knew that it would work to distill the air and allow them to focus more closely on each other. It would also keep them from attempting a permanent bond. While that was something Sherlock hoped would happen in the long-term, it likely wasn’t a good idea to force themselves into it without knowing whether they would be able to be intimate safely.

But if this went well....

Sherlock shivered. Everything was laid out in this. If he could make John agree to this, if they could safely make love with the assistance of the toy he now held in his hand, then they could bond together--and there would never be another date to call John away from, there would never be another scent lingering in the air when John came home the morning after.

They would be each other’s, fully.

He looked down at the toy, wondering how he should prepare for John’s arrival. The man would be hesitant about just hopping into bed, but was there a way to ease into it? They couldn’t try the toy individually; it would be too large internally to be comfortable for only one of them. It was meant to be used together. He pressed the pad of his thumb inside the inner lips of the fleshy opening and stroked it slowly, sinking into thoughts of thrusting in and out with John moving against him.

A knock on his half-open bedroom door pulled him out of his thoughts. Had he truly been thinking for that long?

“I’ve put away the shopping. Apparently your experiment wasn’t all that....” John trailed off, his eyes dropping to Sherlock’s fore and middle fingers, which had been absently moving in and out of the fleshy silicone hole he held in his lap. “Is that--”

“It’s an O-Masturbator,” Sherlock said, quickly unfolding his legs from underneath himself. He pushed the box off the side of the bed, keeping the lubricant close. It took a moment of maneuvering, given that he had worked himself into an aroused state, but he got to his knees on the bed. “I found it while researching solutions to our problem--”

“Sherlock--”

“No, John, listen to me.” Sherlock stood then, holding it out to the doctor and stepping toward him with calculated steps, keeping himself from pouncing as he wished. “It’s large enough internally that it will fit two fully erect alphas, including the knot at orgasm. Its inner workings are textured to mimic an omega’s channel. I’ve had it engineered specifically for the two of us--and I think you understand exactly why I’d like to try it as soon as possible.” 

John took it from Sherlock and the detective watched as his would-be lover inspected it. Sherlock nearly bit through his tongue when John pressed two fingers into the hole, stretching it around them, followed by two more fingers, and then his entire fist, just testing the internal promise of the toy.

“There’s no guarantee that this would work--”

“We’ll only know if we test it.”

John let out a long sigh through slightly-parted lips and withdrew his hand, holding the base of the toy with both hands as though to keep them to himself. “We have to be very careful about this, Sherlock. We could hurt each other--God, look at what happened last time--”

“Bruises fade, John. And even if one of us were an omega, there’s always the risk of moments of discomfort in heat.” Sherlock stepped closer, daring to breathe in the scent of John’s aroused curiosity. “You agreed that if I found a way for this to happen, you would move forward with this relationship. Perhaps you didn’t think my endeavor would be successful, or that I’d grow bored, but believe me when I say that I was determined to find a way to keep you here, John. You are vital to my work, and I doubt you could ignore the way my most basic biology reacts to your presence in these last few months.”

It was true--Sherlock’s body had never responded so physically to another person. There was no direct trigger that had caused it, but when the attraction began, it was almost a shock for the detective, though he slowly watched John’s reactions to him change over a similar span of time. All leading up to that night in the hallway.

All leading up to this.

He wasn’t above asking politely, but he could tell from the way John’s body was leaning toward him that he wasn’t going to have to ask again. John was barely a moment away from tossing the toy behind him and taking what he wanted.

Sherlock reached out and grasped the thick cylinder in his hand, letting his thumb pass over John’s as he did.

“It will be fine,” Sherlock said. He truly believed in his hypothesis; their bodies would react perfectly to each other with the introduction of the synthetic omega lubricant. “I know you want this too, John. Holding yourself back now isn’t going to change the fact that this will all come to a head eventually. It’s just a matter of whether or not we’re prepared. Right now, right here--we’re prepared.”

Sherlock leaned forward, breathing through an open mouth. He was so ready to continue his argument, his explanations--

But John’s mouth surged upwards and the other man nearly knocked him off his feet. The only thing keeping Sherlock grounded was the hand that immediately cupped the back of his head and pulled him forward, lips crushing against his own.

 _Yes,_ he thought. _This is exactly what I’ve been wanting._

Sherlock let John push him backwards onto the bed, only protesting when the toy got trapped between their two bodies. He pushed it aside for the moment and clutched John to him, rolling half on top of him before being slammed right around onto his own back.

_Perfect._

The game was on.


	2. Please?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have an agreement going in. Leave it to Sherlock to throw it to the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's not talk about how long it took me to write this.

During heat, Sherlock understood alphas and omegas to be desperate. Insatiable. It was the natural reaction of the body to the pheromones produced by each mate. The sole purpose of the heat was to ensure the continuation of the species, after all. Breed in desperation. Outside of heat, the hormones were at bay, and the alpha tended to be protective of the omega, regardless of the cycle. Alphas and omegas would forever be slaves to chemicals and sentiment.

The problem, then, with being homosexual was that the alpha hormones that addled the brain and took even Sherlock Holmes down a few pegs with the need to couple--when you put an abundance of that hormone into the same room and told the two people contained therein that they were meant to mate with _each other_ , things tended to get messy and rather complicated.

At least, that was how nature and the rest of the outside world looked at it.

Sherlock Holmes took it as a _challenge._

Had he been an omega, it would have been easy to lie back and enjoy the harsh, wonderful reality of the stubble against his chin and the biting lips playing fiercely over his own. He would have been wriggling with want as his body prepared for the main attraction. Legs would spread willingly, body pinned to linens, and he’d be so thoroughly claimed that he wouldn’t want to emerge from the bedroom for days.

But instead, Sherlock’s body was naturally enraged at being held down, simultaneously confused by want of the sensation. He shook off the hold on his arms out of pure instinct, grabbing onto the doctor’s face with both hands and pulling him closer.

Their teeth clashed with a pain so bright Sherlock was certain he could see the throbbing behind his eyes. For long moments, he could focus little on anything other than John’s teeth worrying his lower lip, trailing down to nibble at his jaw line with teasing nips. It would be so easy to accept this new pleasure if his body would cooperate. But no. _No._

In one jarring motion, Sherlock managed to flip them halfway so they were laying on their sides. John refused to be pushed onto his back, but the other alpha wasn’t giving up quite so easily. His fingers tugged at the bottom of John’s jumper, grazing over the tops of his hips, nails digging into his flank.

Pulling the jumper up, Sherlock trapped John’s arms and rolled him onto his back with a low groan of success as his chosen mate was momentarily pinned beneath him. He pressed against his prize victoriously, panting hard through his nose and claiming John’s mouth once more.

Their toy had rolled against John’s hip, temporarily forgotten but invaluable to the whole operation. The arms trapped by the half-removed jumper shrugged upwards, not necessarily trying to escape from the dominating alpha, but trying to get closer to _skin_. John could temporarily override his most basic instinct to fight if it meant he could get closer to the tantalizing flesh of the other alpha. He nipped at Sherlock’s nose and arched his back, thrusting into the other man and letting his eyes close against the sensation of being pressed together.

“You can take it off if you promise not to run,” Sherlock said. He was holding John’s arms tightly in the jumper and breathing harshly between his words. He bit down on the lobe of his partner’s right ear, breath hot and humid as he whispered, “I’ll be so good to you if you don’t run.”

John didn’t doubt that.

He nodded against his body’s better judgement and Sherlock started to move the jumper up further up, until finally John had to lift his shoulders so that the jumper and his undershirt could be tossed aside. The wool hadn’t even hit the floor before John turned Sherlock onto his back and bore down against him, thrusting his hips a few times for good measure. He was taking back control.

Sherlock’s eyes rolled back as John held his arms against the pillows next to his head. John leaned forward with all intentions of biting away every button on Sherlock’s infuriatingly tight burgundy shirt, but he was distracted by the neck being presented to him. He was always distracted by that neck, but now....

“Do it,” Sherlock panted, turning his head away. “God, John, do it.”

It was tempting. The bonding would take mere moments and would only solidify what they already had between them. Their bond, some might argue, was already complete without the bite.

But no. They had said--

“No,” John said quietly, shaking off the temptation and instead tearing at the buttons on Sherlock’s chest. The first two were already done, but moving down while Sherlock thrashed against him was enough of a distraction from the bared neck. His fingers tightened around Sherlock’s wrists, pressing and squeezing so he couldn’t tell whose pulse he was counting.

When he caught the last button in his teeth, he pulled the shirtfront from Sherlock’s trousers without a care that his chin had just brushed against the other alpha’s erection. There would be time for that soon enough. He licked the sparse trail of hair that decorated the detective’s naval, groaning at the taste of aroused skin. This was where he gave in to the temptation to bite, to sink his teeth into hot flesh. It was safe here--there was no bonding at the belly button, only tantalizing skin marked with his claim.

Sherlock moaned and arched his back into the bite, at once pressing into the pleasure and trying to buck free of the other alpha. His blood was singing with the need to regain control.

“Shhhhhh,” John said, tightening his grip on Sherlock’s wrists.

If John intended to take off Sherlock’s trousers, he was going to have to release him eventually. The detective was sure he could tempt the man into letting go to make work of his zip, and he set to work by thrusting his hips upwards into John’s chin. But the grip on his wrists was almost painful in the most wonderful of ways, keeping him down as John pressed his chin roughly to the exposed naval below him.

There was the distraction--he was looking up as he dragged his teeth along the waist of the trousers, meeting Sherlock’s eyes while simultaneously avoiding the temptation of his presented neck once more. 

_Opportunity._

 Sherlock wrenched free and gave John a good shove, nearly tumbling the other alpha from the bed. In the time it took John to prepare to come back at him in a lunge, Sherlock had already half divested his trousers and uncapped the bottle of O-brand lubricant, releasing the pheromones into the air that immediately diluted the overwhelming scent of the dominant alphas.

It was a ridiculous sight, and both of them knew it. Sherlock, kneeling on the bed with his cock hanging from trousers that were barely shoved down his thighs while John knelt opposite, palming himself with the heel of his hand as he breathed the mixed scents in the air.

“Might be worth it to open that at the start next time." John was panting slightly. He had a purpling bite mark on his right shoulder that mirrored the placement of the scar on his left. His lips were swollen and wet, cheeks and chest flushed, but Sherlock noted that he was visibly calmer. It was almost disconcerting to have the presence of an omega suddenly interloping on their mating, but John was right. For now.

“Take it out,” Sherlock said, staring unashamed at where John’s hand was stroking absentmindedly. His mouth was watering, and he filed away that fantasy for another day. Once the alpha-alpha novelty began to simmer and they grew more used to each other’s scents--then it would be safe. But now....

He met John’s eyes as the doctor’s fingers deftly unbuttoned his trousers and pulled down the zip, never breaking contact with the rapt grey-blue stare. John pushed down his jeans and pants to his knees, and Sherlock’s eyes finally dropped. The scent was threatening to overpower him again, and the bead of clear fluid at the tip made him lick his lips. 

John reached between them for the toy, and Sherlock held out his hand, bottle clasped in his suddenly sweaty palm. It was ridiculous that they truly didn’t have the patience to take off both pairs of trousers before moving on to the main attraction. 

There was just one problem.

As John tipped Sherlock’s hand and squeezed with him to pour the lube into the silicone lips of the toy, they both seemed to realize at the same time that there were very few positions where one of them would not be fighting for dominance. The problem had been temporarily postponed by the scent of the O-brand, but it was more than likely that the second they were both sheathed, their natural tendencies would take over and both of them would need to dominate. And how were they meant to cope with that while deeper into the throes than they had yet been together?

“We could....” John trailed off as Sherlock’s fingers began to press into the opening of their toy, spreading the lubricant. Long fingers caressed teasingly, moving in and out at the second knuckle until Sherlock was sure John couldn’t even remember what he’d been about to say.

Shuffling closer on his knees, Sherlock snapped the cap shut and tossed the lubricant toward the head of the bed. He guided John’s hand to flip the toy over and scooted a little closer. If they started on their knees, things could progress naturally.

And by “naturally,” he obviously imagined that he could slowly force the other alpha onto his back. That was the most ideal course of action. 

They were both holding their breath, one hand each on the cylindrical toy, slowly guiding their cocks closer. The crowns met with a soft, wet brush at the lips of the downturned toy. Sherlock was torn between wanting to close his eyes to revel in the sensation and drowning in regret at not ordering the clear version of the O-Masturbator. The image of what their their cocks would look like as they slipped inside together was likely well worth the cost of ordering another. 

The sensation was certainly more than he'd dared to anticipate. Tight, wet heat intensified by the pulse of John's cock against his own as they both shifted further inside. What would be like when their knots-- _No._ Sherlock couldn't think about that right now or the whole thing would be over far too soon.

“Oh, Christ,” John gasped. He grabbed the other man’s shoulder with his free hand, canting his hips upwards to thrust further inside. John's grip on the toy forced it down at the same time. Sherlock's thrusts followed, at once fighting to take up the same amount of space inside the toy as John and also to get closer to the throbbing cock pressed against his own. They paused there, fully sheathed, breathing against each other and slowly leaning closer, _closer_ , pressing chest to chest momentarily until their mouths collided once more.

And then the world devolved into wet heat. A warm tongue slid into Sherlock’s mouth as they began to thrust together in an uneven rhythm. He opened his mouth wider as he pulled John closer by the hip, getting just a bit deeper on their next thrusts. The head of John’s cock nudged his own on the upstroke, kissing goodbye with the crown on its way down. A fascinating mix between the gel and silicone and hot flesh. Pure _sensation_.

Spreading his knees a bit for better leverage was not meant as an invitation, but John took it as one, crowding in closer and thrusting just a bit harder, out of their slowly setting rhythm. The hand on Sherlock’s shoulder pressed him backwards, the mouth against his own was more forceful. This was not how it was supposed to go, but go he did.

Against everything his body wanted, Sherlock found himself falling backwards against the bed, arching into the body above him. Suddenly, he craved John’s hands on his wrists, missed the feeling of being held down from mere minutes ago. His skin felt like it was on fire at every point of contact and he turned his head away, groaning.

“Please,” Sherlock gasped, baring his neck and upping the tempo. The closer they got to the peak, the less John would be of mind to refuse. He'd be exactly where Sherlock wanted him.

John pressed his mouth to the temptation, moving his hand from Sherlock’s shoulder to pin one hand next to the curly-haloed head on the pillow. With his other hand on the toy, all of his weight was rested on Sherlock’s palm and his own knees as he thrust relentlessly against his lover. Heat. That was the dominant sensation in the room. Warmth, wetness, and _heat_.

The O-brand was still present in the air, but it was becoming less and less effective with every moment. Their bodies were giving off more and more of their own pheromones as the peak grew closer. Sherlock could sense that John’s self-control was dwindling, and he took advantage of it in the only way he knew how. 

He tried to fight back.

At the slightest upward push from the antagonistic alpha’s hand, John was pressing him harder into the mattress, dropping down on top of him like a stone. His hips moved at a slower, more commanding pace with a certain ferocity behind each thrust. Teeth grazed his collarbone and the toy dug into his stomach and the lack of control was so positively _euphoric_ that Sherlock decided he should never stop pressing John’s buttons.

Not that he'd ever considered it in the first place.

The base of the toy was only slightly wider than the rest in order to compensate for their knots swelling at orgasm, and it hadn’t been entirely clear exactly how that would work when Sherlock had been examining it earlier. But he was never one to shy away from an experiment, so when he felt the tingling heat at the base of his spine, he was partly curious to experience the results. However, he was mostly just praying their impending orgasms would trigger the bite to the neck he’d been desperately seeking since the night John Watson killed a man to protect him.

He thrashed upwards wantonly, closing his eyes and reveling in the feel of the silken heat wrapped around his cock and the slick flesh that assaulted the underside one thrust at a time. It was getting significantly harder to plot his mating scheme as the doctor moved against him, panting humid breath after humid breath against his neck. There were no words left to beg with, only bit lips and shuddering breaths.

“One day,” John said, stopping only two words in to nip at Sherlock’s ear, “One day I’m going to fuck you.” He punctuated the promise by grinding down slowly before resuming his pace. “I’m going to take you in this very bed and--” For a moment, his lips hovered just over where the bond scar would someday present itself. “Oh, God, I’m going to have you, Sherlock. Every inch of you.”

Sherlock let go of the toy. They were close enough that they’d swelled just slightly and John could hold it on his own. He used his free hand to grasp John by the back of his neck and hold him in place. As he lifted one leg to wrap around the John’s, he let his nails dig into the skin under his fingers, just a hint of a plea.

“Please,” he begged again. He needed that little push, one small technicality, and he’d be over the edge.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the ruthless movements of their bodies taking over for their minds. Matching thrust for thrust, gasp for gasp. Heat on heat. Sherlock didn't even know if John was considering it or continuing to fight the obvious invitation; couldn't be bothered to deduce at such a moment.

And then there was a blindingly gorgeous burst of pleasure from the left side of his neck, just a few inches below his ear, spreading quickly to the rest of his body. Before he even had time to cry out, the knot at the base of his cock was swelling in tandem with his new mate’s. It was nearly impossible to continue moving as their bodies worked together to coat the inner walls of the cylinder between them with their seed. 

He couldn’t feel his toes, couldn’t even be sure if he was still at Baker Street. The whole thing made him feel like he was in a drug-induced delirium with the pleasure from the bonding. He held John closer.

Hot, sticky, sweaty, _gloriously stuck_. 

John’s mouth was still tenderly moving against their bond, humming contentedly even as they spasmed against each other inside the plastic toy. It was a glorious, unplanned haze. Their bodies were locked together, as they should be, solidifying the bond that everyone had said was impossible. Improbable. Taboo. _His._

And suddenly Sherlock could smell his mate more clearly than anything else in the room, anything else in the universe. He could taste it when he opened his mouth in a smile to breathe him in, could see John’s warm face behind closed eyes. John's breath against his neck, soothing the impending soreness. The world was shrinking down to the new mate in his arms, the only man good enough to be _his_ and take him in return. With some monumental effort, he lifted his tingling and exhausted limbs to cocoon himself around his alpha.

Sherlock Holmes had gotten what he wanted. And all he had to do was say _please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you got here from a fic rec, let me know so I can go squeal my love to the rec'er! Also, if you want, you can follow me on tumblr. There's a lot of Benedict Cumberbatch going on over there. :) http://likes-timelords.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> I take fic commissions, so if you'd like a fic of your very own, check out my commission info [here](http://likes-timelords.tumblr.com/post/119150527688/dorothy-commissions)!


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